From Behind the Eyes of a Half-Blood Prince
by OnyxFeather
Summary: Follow Snape's journey through the Harry Potter timeline. How he eventually finds some purpose in his life - so full of bitterness and solitude. See the evolution of his character on a quest for redemption. Will he ever find some measure of peace? (Please R&R)


Hi, this is my interpretation of Snape's character. The fic is written predominantly from his point of view, although I may add other bits in between. It will mainly follow the timeline of the books. I hope I can do his complex character justice, any comments and reviews will be most helpful. Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Harry Potter characters!**

**From Behind the Eyes of a Half-Blood Prince**

**Chapter 1: The Prophecy**

It was a chilly night on 17th January 1980. The nearby surroundings of Hogsmeade were barely visible behind the thick, greying fog that filled the air. As the clouds of smoke slowly gave way, they revealed a small glimpse of the odd glistening candlelight, shining through behind the misty windows. Clearly the occupants of Hogsmeade were remaining in doors to escape the biting cold that had settled over the North of Britain - huddled around lit fires, filling their icy insides with the steamy warmth that only accompanied a glass or two of firewhiskey.

There was a sudden disturbance in the atmosphere as the air surrounding the trees rippled mildly. A tall, black figure was making its way down the silent street. His cloak gliding across the cobbled floor beneath his feet, swishing ever so lightly when caught in the breeze, as he approached an old rickety pub. The worn sign that hung directly above the wooden door, read: Hog's Head Inn.

As Severus Snape pushed open the door, its rusty, iron hinges squeaked. Soft murmurs could be heard as those gathered around small tables, heads close together, spoke in hushed voices. A group to the far end of the bar were laughing raucously, as the hilarity mounted a burly man rocked back on his chair which gave way under his weight. Uninterested and wanting to remain conspicuous, Snape slid into a chair at a table set behind a large pillar. It allowed for an open view of the entrance whilst at the same time concealing him nicely.

A few weeks ago, the Dark Lord had instructed him to keep a close eye on the movements of Albus Dumbledore, his former headmaster. There was rumour of a secret society, with a growing number of people, planning on leading a resistance. If these revolutionaries were to form an alliance with the Ministry, they would become an even greater threat to the Dark Lord's plans. In the last decade, the Dark Lord had managed to extend his power ever further: currently he had giants, dementors and even inferi at his command. It was evident that the Ministry was crumbling to the ground, barely afloat. He would not risk the position he currently held, the wizarding world was finally in a state of irreversible chaos. Soon the Dark Lord would have an army large enough to overthrow the Minister of Magic and seize control. There was no way he would allow this organisation to thwart the few chances he had created. They were an irksome inconvenience that needed to be disposed of. Snape had been charged with the responsibility of gaging as much information regarding their whereabouts or members as was possible.

Snape's magical cunning and insatiable ability to merge into the shadows fit him well for this purpose. A fortnight ago he had visited Hogsmeade for information from his source, only to overhear a conversation taking place outside Madame Rosmerta's.

_"People are so afraid, no one dares talk about anything anymore," Madame Rosmerta whispered to two teachers who had arrived at the village one evening. "Don't know who to trust…just living in terror of what the next day will bring."_

_The plump, dwarf-like man looked forlorn. "We mustn't lose hope though," he chirped sympathetically._

_"Filius is right, Rosmerta," the taller of the two was dressed in a thick travelling cloak. Professor McGonagall placed a comforting hand on the land lady's arm. The warm gesture seemed strangely odd to Snape, who had only known her as an austere and stern transfiguration teacher. _

_Tears brimming in the whites of her eyes, Rosmerta went on, "I'm just so glad that at the very least the school and students are safe, and unharmed."_

_"Nothing will happen to the students, whilst Albus Dumbledore remains headmaster," Filius' small body was stretched tall, emanating the confidence he felt for their leader. _

_"I suppose, they all say that You-Know-Who would never go against Dumbledore...he is the only hope we have in these dark days. I've seen him going by to the Hog's Head frequently…" informed Madam Rosmerta, there was a curious glint in her eyes as she looked directly towards Professor McGonagall, "Minerva-,"_

_"I'm afraid, there's not much I can tell you Rosmerta," the hint of gravity present in her tone was enough to deter Madame Rosmerta from questioning her again. "But I am sure that Albus has his reasons." _

_Snape did not linger, he was sure there would be no more discussion regarding Dumbledore's whereabouts. He disapparated immediately from his spot, in a small alley way that separated the pub from a nearby shop, keen to trace any other clues that might shed light on the old man's intentions. _

Since then the dark-haired young Death Eater, who had been newly inducted into Voldemort's inner circle, had maintained secure contact with the school and in particular any news relating to the Headmaster. He knew it would be foolish - suicidal to even attempt to follow Dumbledore. Though his loyalties lied with the Dark Lord and his aims, Severus could not deny the Headmaster's prodigious skill. The informant he had selected was moderately reliable. After all the principle was a secret person; it was unquestionable that he would ever confide in the villagers. Only his staff would have any valuable information, all of whom were magically skilled. Impersonating them would not be easy, besides the castle was well protected against intruders. Snape's only way in was through an old lady, who the caretaker, Filch, held a strong attachment. Using the _Imperius_ curse Severus had successfully managed to compel her. Under his will, she met regularly with the caretaker. Surprisingly, behind that gnarly expression and grimy exterior, Severus was pleased to find a wealth of knowledge regarding news from within the castle. Though the idea had narked him tremendously in the beginning, he had found it unwittingly informative.

Earlier this evening his source had reported that the Headmaster was planning to leave the castle to enter Hogsmeade. From this, Severus had gathered that there was only one place he would be expected to be. And so he had decided to arrive at the Hog's Head Inn a good while before Dumbledore would be due to attend. Filtering out the noises around him, Snape's eyes rested intently on the front door, unblinking, waiting…

A shrill, animated voice from the opposite side of the bar threw his concentration, as he was momentarily diverted. His eyes shifted to the source of this intrusion, the sight both shocked and repulsed Severus. At the opposite end of the bar stood a gangly, thin woman, covered in a loosely hanging shawl. Jewels dangling around her neck, covering her arms and an assortment of large stoned rings on her fingers. What drew his attention the most were the large framed orbs that hung on her nose, magnifying her eyes to such a level, that they looked far too big for her face.

"I sense there is grave danger here tonight, beware for the black clouds of death loom close by," she told a middle-aged man sitting alone at his table. A look of fear contorted his features and terror swelled in his eyes, at hearing the news of his impending doom. He almost jumped out of his seat and headed frantically for the exit. The lady however, appeared quite pleased with the reaction she had evoked.

"You again," grunted an irritated barman, "Scarin' my customers away. Any more, an' I'll have you an' your crystal balls out o' here."

"Sir, I am the great granddaughter of the most renowned seer," was her pompous response in return, "The truth of the inner eye cannot be helped."

Though his dirty, silver hair obscured the barman's face, Severus was almost certain it held an expression of utter disgust. He himself was struggling to restrain the disparaging thoughts that seemed to flow through his mind at the impression of this woman.

"Now, if you would please - I only came for a butterbeer."

Snape was able to decipher a disgruntled, "Seer, my broomstick!" before returning his attention to the door. Similarly, he had very little patience for such histrionic individuals - _talentless, useless and pathetic!_

It was only moments after when the familiar screeching of the hinges caught his attention. His eye's fixed on that ancient face he recognised so well, as a tall man with half-moon spectacles in the most magnificent blue robes entered the pub. The image looked so out of place here, beyond the castle walls. His white beard, which reached his waist shone brighter than the dim candles and the buckles on his boots clinked quietly, as he made his way to the bar. A few heads turned towards him, Dumbledore smiled his usual kindly smile and bowed his head in acknowledgement of their greeting. It seemed obvious that his visit to the Hog's Head was not sought recreationally, for he dissuaded any invitation to polite company, seeking only the attention of the bartender.

Snape could not make out the words, but the two seemed to be sharing little more than casual conversation.

"Got another message for me to pass on 'ave yeh," grumped Abeforth.

"Always a pleasure," stated Dumbledore courteously, "May I enquire as to the reason for such a cold greeting…Of course, conversation is always a bit tense between us, no doubt. But I sense that it is more so than usual this evening," the professor pulled out a stool from underneath the bar and made to sit.

"I's nothin'," if there was anything that Abeforth despised more than his brother. It was his brother's annoying ability to see straight through his frustration.

"You know, I've been hearing such charming stories about a young woman, dare I say somewhat of a crystal gazer-" his blue eyes danced with amusement. The hint was deliberate, and it did little to calm Abeforth's irritation.

"She only arrived this mornin' and already she's managed to half empty this place," subconsciously Abeforth had started scrubbing the bar rather aggressively. "Seer, she calls herself. Not sure why'd you want a fraud teaching students myself…"

"Unfortunately she contacted me directly. Although I admit it is not my intention to allow divination to continue – I hear she is the great granddaughter of a most talented and gifted seer."

"Load of dragon dung-" mumbled Abeforth.

"Nevertheless, it would be unfair for me not to follow through with the necessary processes." The look on Abeforth's face plainly stated that the Professor was wasting his time. Aware that this discussion was pointless, Dumbledore directed the conversation towards a different avenue. "Minerva informed me about the McKinnons…"

"Hmm…" Abeforth paused in his cleaning and turned to face Albus, his expression sombre and softer than his usual gruff self. Even though he did not verbalise it, Dumbledore knew that his brother was as saddened by this tragic news.

Saving him the pain of having to say more, Dumbledore continued, "I assume Crouch is still adamantly refusing our proposal."

"Yeh, Moody say's the man's obsessed. Can't blame 'im suppose….no news of his son, he's still missin'."

"That seems to be the case…" staring past Abeforth, Dumbledore's eyes glazed over thoughtfully. Crouch's behaviour had certainly seemed odd to him, he had known him to be strict and sometimes rigid in his thinking, but recently he appeared fanatical. The legislation involving the capture of Death Eaters and refusing trial was politically extreme - something just didn't seem to fit. "Well…" snapping out of his reverie, Dumbledore made to stand, "I must not hold off the dreaded moment any longer, best to get it over with quickly and as painlessly as possible."

"She's through there," Aberforth gestured his head towards the back doorway leading up to the rooms.

As the headmaster disappeared around the bar, the barman turned in the opposite direction busying himself with polishing the goblets. Severus took his chance, making his way briskly in between the chairs to the other side of the bar, careful not to appear overtly suspicious.

Though unknown to him, the bartender had caught the movement in his peripheral vision and turned his head sideways, imperceptibly following Snape with his eyes. He had planned to go in behind him, when the pounding of a table caught his attention.

"Anoder round of firewhiskhey, I say!" exclaimed a burly Irishman. This was met by cheers from the rest of the table, reluctantly Abeforth sauntered forward.

Behind the door was a grey staircase that led to the upper floors. Severus' right foot was hovering over the first step, when he heard the soft plunking of boots on wood and the scratching sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. He changed direction immediately, silently casting the _Muffliato_ charm so the creeking of his footsteps would not alert the occupants to an intruder. A door to the left of the staircase stood slightly ajar. Crouching, he steadily approached the room, his face, nose-to-nose with the door as he peered through the small gap; conscious of his erratically beating heart and the heavy rising of his chest as he took irregular breaths.

From what he could gather, the space inside resembled a drawing room, he could just about make out the corner of a chintz armchair and the leg of a polished, oak coffee table. Beside the table, and positioned directly in front of his eye line, stood Professor Dumbledore, who urgently made his way towards the arm chair, blocking him from view. Severus was struggling to interpret the muffled voices from within and whispered, "_Callimorphus."_ As soon as he had cast the smell, his ears were met by a loud droning sound, both hypnotic and condemning.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches: born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and-"

Suddenly the hall flooded with light, a long dark shadow loomed over Severus, "Thought I didn't see you did you?"

For a second, Severus was rooted to the spot as if petrified, but as the barman raised his wand ready to curse, he reacted instinctively and dived to the left. BOOM! The stunning charm had hit the door and it was blasted off its hinges. Snape glanced the headmaster briefly, before scrambling to his feet, pushing the barman aside to clear his path to the exit. Severus sprinted out the pub, _"Stupefy," _cried the barman from behind. The spell hit a chair to his left, Snape tripped and rolled over. By this point the onlookers fell silent, watching intently as he clambered onto his feet and fled.

"YOU-" was the last he heard from the barman, as he continued running through the deserted streets, keeping his speed, until he had reached the safety of the trees, from where he disapparated.


End file.
